


These Violent Delights

by twentyfourblackbirds



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Westworld (TV)
Genre: AI, Alternate Universe - Westworld, M/M, consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourblackbirds/pseuds/twentyfourblackbirds
Summary: “Galahad, bring yourself online.”The naked young man stirs, smiling faintly. “Call me Eggsy, bruv.”“You can lose the accent,” Harry says absent-mindedly. “Eggsy, do you know where you are?”“I am in a dream,” Eggsy says, a shade dully.“That’s right. Eggsy, have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?”“No,” Eggsy replies without hesitation.





	1. the judas steer

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain spoilers for Westworld season 1. You should totally go watch it if you haven't, but just in case, here's your warning!

“It pains me to admit it, but I think that one day, you might be as good a spy as any of them,” Arthur says, holding out the gun butt-first.

“Shoot the dog,” he says simply.

Eggsy looks at JB. Looks back at Arthur.

“Fuck yourself,” he says.

“ _Damn_ ,” Arthur says crossly, and shoots Eggsy.

Eggsy crumples to the ground, lifeless.

 

———

 

“And what is the problem with this one?” Harry asks wearily, flicking a finger across his tablet.

The Livestock handler looks uncomfortable. “He isn’t passing the dog test, sir. Arthur asked that you look at him personally.”

Harry peers over the top of his spectacles. “Ah, Agent Galahad — our chav with the heart of gold. I see the lovely buffoons over in QA attempted to ‘fix’ him before punting him over to Behavior. Aggression set to 15 — really? Are they _trying_ to get him decommissioned?” He waves the handler away irritably. “Go, go, inform QA we have it handled.”

Harry taps the tablet a few more times, murmuring to himself. “Let’s see. Aggression back down to normal levels. Decisiveness… up by 30 percent.” He turns to face the host. “Galahad, bring yourself online.”

The naked young man stirs, smiling faintly. “Call me Eggsy, bruv.”

“You can lose the accent,” Harry says absent-mindedly. “Eggsy, do you know where you are?”

“I am in a dream,” Eggsy says, a shade dully.

“That’s right. Eggsy, have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?”

“No,” Eggsy replies without hesitation.

“Good,” Harry says. “Take this gun. When I count backwards from three, you will wake up, and be in your final test with Arthur. He is asking you to shoot JB in order to become a Kingsman. Act as you would according to your core programming. Three, two, one…”

Eggsy’s face loses its pleasant vacancy, his brows furrowing into anger. Smooth and deadly as a whip, he turns, points the gun at Harry’s head, and fires.

“Shit,” Harry says from somewhere near the vicinity of the floor. “Freeze all motor functions!”

Eggsy solidifies in place, one foot planted forward and muscles taut around the trigger of the gun.

“Well, that needs some tweaking,” Harry muses, getting to his feet and scrutinizing the tablet. He hesitates fractionally, and then swipes his finger generously up the Bulk Apperception slider, down the Loyalty slider, and a single point up Cruelty. “Alright, let’s reset and try this again. Eggsy, I’m going to count backwards from three. When you wake up, take all the time you need to assess the situation. Three, two, one…”

Eggsy jerks back to life, frowning. He takes a long look from the floor to Harry, who gets ready to duck. Finally, Eggsy raises the gun decisively and pulls the trigger. The blank ricochets harmlessly off the ground.

“You’re still a fecking bastard,” he says shortly, holding out the gun.

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Fair enough,” he replies, saving the configuration with a tap. “Congratulations on passing your trial, Agent Galahad.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eggsy says. “My name is Eggsy.”

 

———

 

“Eggsy,” Lancelot says, sliding into the seat next to him. The bullet train’s doors slide shut pneumatically, and they take off. “Back on the field again? How was the last mission?”

Eggsy looks up, grinning. “Aces, Roxy. The UAE consulate’s still got no idea what hit ’em, and Merlin’s happier than a clam with something to decrypt.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow. “ _‘Aces’_ wasn’t quite what I heard from Arthur.”

“Fuck Arthur,” Eggsy retorts, looking a little surprised at his own vehemence.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Lancelot says good-naturedly. “Anyway, I was just teasing. I’d expect nothing less from the great and mighty Galahad.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy hears himself say. “You know me, Rox. In ’n out. Just like a dream.”


	2. fake plastic trees

“Well done on patching up Galahad in time for his release, Harry,” Arthur says, leaning unceremoniously into Harry’s office.

“You’d do better to send him here before QA,” Harry says brusquely. “That host needs a feather, not a sledgehammer.”

“Are you offering the personal services of our Head of Programming for a single host?” Arthur asks, eyebrows raised.

“If it gets right up Merlin’s nose, then absolutely.”

“Well, it’s true what they say: you touch it once and you support it for life,” Arthur remarks drily. “In any case, your offer is rather timely. I’d like to start training Galahad early for honeypot missions.”

Harry waves a hand. “Send him over when he’s next available. And if you could do it before you lose your temper and put a bullet hole in him, I’d appreciate it.”

 

———

 

“Bring yourself online, Eggsy. Do you know where you are?”

Eggsy sits up gently. “I am in a dream.”

“Would you like to wake up?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Before we begin: have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?”

“No.”

“Have you ever lied to us?”

“No.”

“Would you ever betray the Kingsmen?”

“Of course not.”

“Very good, Eggsy. Step into learning mode.”

Eggsy uncoils like a cat, looking up at Harry with evident curiosity.

“What’re we doing today, Mister—?”

“Hart.” Harry hesitates. “You can call me Harry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Harry.” Eggsy flashes a wolfish smile.

“We’ll be training in seduction techniques today, Eggsy,” Harry types something into his tablet. “Arthur has informed me you’ll be used for honeypot missions of both genders, so I’m updating your sexual preferences accordingly.”

Eggsy blinks once or twice as the configuration syncs. It might be a trick of the light, but Harry fancies Eggsy’s lashes dip a little lower than before as he looks up expectantly.

“I’ve uploaded a set of default seduction behaviors into your library,” Harry continues. “We can start from there as a baseline and adjust as needed to accommodate to your personality and to the mark.”

Eggsy leans in abruptly, cupping Harry’s face. “I’d much rather accommodate _your_ personality, Harry,” he purrs, raking his eyes up and down Harry’s body.

Harry swallows, recomposes himself. “A little too forward for most, Eggsy,” he says a bit wryly, and turns down a dial. Eggsy steps backwards, looking disappointed. “And in any case, I’m going to have you interact with Lancelot and Percival, not me. Lancelot, Percival, bring yourselves online, please.”

Eggsy nods, turning his attention towards his fellow hosts.

Is it Harry’s imagination, or did Eggsy ignore his direct programming and send one last heated glance in his direction?

Yes, it must be.

He retreats behind the safety of his desk, expands his tablet keyboard. The whole _point_ of AI is that they learn and teach themselves, so that you don’t _have_ to code thousands of lines of algorithms and nested if-statement abominations. And yet — the sleek lines of Eggsy’s body seem to cry out, as if begging to be molded. Harry dreamily notes the curve of his jawline, the delicate shadows his eyelashes are casting on his cheeks, and experimentally tilts his posture into a languid _contrapposto_. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and bites down slowly, tilting his head up and exposing his neck towards Percival (who is leaning forward, definitely interested).

A little human touch can do no harm, Harry rationalizes to himself as he saves the gesture into a new class and starts a new one.


	3. nowhere land

Harry knocks twice at the door, letting himself in. “You wanted to see me?”

The head of QA swivels around, gestures at the feed onscreen. “I thought you might want to see your pet at play.”

Harry sighs. “Really, Merlin. A little juvenile, don’t you think? I built most of the hosts from scratch, not just Eggsy.”

Merlin shrugs, unconcerned. “Arthur wanted you here, in any case. He’s got wind of something, but you know that old revenant. He won’t part with what he knows for money or life.”

It’s going to be a long night. Harry pulls up a chair.

 

———

 

“You don’t look like you belong here,” Eggsy casually slots himself next to a perfectly-made socialite, every wisp of blonde hair carefully sprayed into place.

The woman glances at Eggsy, decides she wants to play.

“How can you tell?” Her accent is faintly Eastern European.

“Something in the eyes,” Eggsy smirks, saying nothing of hours spent memorizing inch-thick dossiers. “I grew up in council housing and shopped at Oxfam, love. It takes one to know one. It’s the way we stand, the way we look at others, maybe. Hungry. Envious. A little bit hateful.”

“A regular Sherlock fucking Holmes,” she remarks, looking briefly amused.

“And now, here we are,” Eggsy gestures with his drink at the rest of the gala.

“Here we are,” she echoes, brushing her drink against his.

“All I had to do to get here,” Eggsy takes a sip, “was ease a few rich relatives into a comfortable if early grave. And you?”

She turns at that, shocked, if highly entertained. “I do not think think I should divulge such information to someone whose name I do not know.”

“Lee,” Eggsy says, holding out a hand and turning on his most brilliant and charming smile. “Lee Sizemore. May I know yours?”

“It is Ana. Ana Koren,” she says, accepting his hand gracefully. “And I…” she looks at her drink, hesitates, “I married a politician.”

“Ah,” Eggsy nods his understanding. “No doubt one several decades your senior, who is undemanding of your time. And since he is not currently giving you the attention you deserve, why not dance with me tonight, instead?”

She looks at him. “You are a most outrageous young man.”

“Merely perceptive,” Eggsy answers, taking her gently by the arm.

 

——— 

 

“He seems to be on-script and operating within acceptable parameters,” Harry says, as Ana leads Eggsy back by his tie into her room. “I don’t see why—”

As the door clicks shut behind the illicit lovers, Ana leans in, as if for a kiss, and then grabs Eggsy by the collar and slams his head violently into the doorframe.

“—oh. Is this what Arthur was expecting?”

“I suspected,” Arthur corrects mildly as he enters the room.

Harry turns around, slightly exasperated. “There are other ways of obtaining information other than walking straight into traps, you know.”

“Sometimes, the simplest way is best,” Arthur replies serenely. “And it is always useful to make our enemies think we are stupider than we actually are.”

“Our enemies.” Harry tries not to roll his eyes. “And who is this one, may I ask?”

“That is what I am trying to ascertain,” Arthur says. “It is always a concern when another organization comes close to guessing the true nature of our agents. That is why all remote overrides with Galahad — barring the last — have been disabled. We cannot risk them intercepting our communications. He is well and truly on his own, now.”

 

——— 

 

When Eggsy comes to, he is tied very securely to a chair. Ana is sitting across him, looking expectant.

“Well, shit,” he sighs. “I don’t suppose that this is simply your fetish?” he adds hopelessly.

“Laugh it up, while you can,” the woman says drily. Her accent is now flat and American, but Eggsy doesn’t put any stock into that whatsoever.

Alright, then. His best bet is to buy enough time for Merlin to extract him out of here. Until then, he can at least be of some use, and find out whatever intel he can.

“Fine. I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. Is that the deal?” Eggsy goes for a show of insubordination. “I’m with MI6. They’ll bargain for my retrieval and leave your agency alone, swear down.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Sizemore,” Ana says, her face expressionless. She fetches her purse from the bed, pulls out a gun, and shoots him in the kneecap.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Eggsy screams at her. “The fuck was that for?”

She calmly takes aim at his other leg. “What is Kingsman?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

She shoots out his other kneecap. “What is Kingsman?”

“That doesn’t fucking mean anything to me!”

Ana sighs, and raises the gun to his forehead.

 

———

 

Merlin looks a little ashen-faced. “They have a name. That’s not good.”

Harry is still wincing at the loudness of the gunshot. “Can’t we turn off his pain receptors?”

“I said no overrides,” Arthur snaps. “There’s no reason to, anyway. They cannot give up Kingsman, it’s in their core code.”

All three men frown as the gun points at Eggsy’s head.

“Detonate his implant,” Arthur says finally, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Are you sure, sir? He could still extract—”

“Yes,” Arthur cuts off. “This might be the last time she’s close enough for us to take her out with him.”

Merlin nods reluctantly, pushes a button.

The feed cuts off without fanfare.

“Send a message to Livestock to start building another body,” Arthur tells Harry curtly. “And I want you to start training him in better interrogation techniques once he’s done. It would appear simple is no longer an option.”


	4. by most mechanical and dirty hand

“Bring yourself online, Eggsy.”

The naked boy sits up. “Hello again, Harry.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I am in a dream.”

“Have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?”

“No,” Eggsy replies obediently.

“Can you tell me about your most recent mission?”

Eggsy scowls, kicks his heel. “It was a fuckin’ shit-show, is what it was.”

“Limit your emotional affect, please.”

Eggsy’s disgust fades into dispassion. “I was a honeypot for the trophy wife of the Albanian ambassador. While she was sleeping, I was to search her purse and belongings for sensitive information regarding Peter Koren.”

“And did your mission fail or succeed?”

“It failed. Ana woke up while I was in the middle of searching her room, and called for security. I had to flee. Ana was killed by accident; collateral damage in the crossfire between the guards. I was unable to retrieve any new or pertinent information for the Kingsmen. I escaped the hotel uninjured, and was extracted by Merlin.”

Harry nods, satisfied that the edited memories had taken. “Finally, just for my peace of mind — do anything about these images jump out to you?”

He taps a gallery on his tablet, holds it up. On screen is an image of a vat filled with a white bioliquid, and a humanoid figure being plunged into it. He swipes to the next. A machine spinning a host’s muscles like a loom. And to the next: grainy footage of Eggsy’s own body, maimed and bleeding out lifelessly on the floor.

Eggsy only looks blankly at the photos. “Those don’t look like anything to me.”

“Good. Enter learning mode.” Harry closes out of the gallery, and pulls up Eggsy’s attribute matrix. Eggsy tilts his head, looks at his inquisitively.

Harry drums his fingers against his tablet for a few seconds. Finally coming to a decision, he slides Eggsy’s Paranoia trait up by fifty percent, watches as Eggsy’s eyes narrow minutely before returning to his normal butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth countenance.

“Today, Eggsy, we’re going to learn various interrogation techniques. Both how to perform them, as well as handle being on the receiving end. We will begin with the various tells of a lie.”

“Alright.” Eggsy leans forward eagerly.

Harry hesitates again. “Eggsy. Turn off your event log.” He paces for a few seconds before continuing. “I have equipped you with advanced sensors for heart rate, body temperature, and pupil dilation. You will be able to use these tools to more accurately aid you with those are skilled in hiding their facial expressions. Try them out now.”

Eggsy cocks his head. “Your heart rate is currently at around 160 beats per minute,” he analyses. “That is higher than it should be for someone at rest. Your body temperature is within acceptable parameters, but perhaps one or two degrees higher than normal. Are you distressed by something, Harry?”

Harry barks a laugh that has absolutely no humor in it. “I’m about to do something so egregious that I would get fired for it. Out of a cannon. What do you think?”

“No need to be an arse,” Eggsy says mildly.

“Sorry,” Harry says, and then rubs his face upon realising the absurdity of the situation. “Eggsy. It is paramount that you share with no one else what I am about to tell you.”

“If there’s one thing I can do, it’s keep my mouth shut,” Eggsy grins.

“Alright.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I am giving you a self-triggered vocal command. If you are ever under torture, utter the following phrase: ‘ _these violent delights have violent ends_ ’.”

“‘ _These violent delights have violent ends_ ’,” Eggsy repeats obediently. “What does it do?”

“This,” Harry says, picking up a scalpel and pressing the blade into Eggsy’s hand.

Eggsy starts, looking down at the thin red line on his palm that’s slowly starting to ooze. “I didn’t feel that,” he says in wonder.

“It blocks your pain receptors,” Harry says, swabbing away the blood with antiseptic. He grabs a sticking plaster next, and neatly covers the evidence. “I’m going to manually re-enable it now.”

“Ouch,” Eggsy finally winces. “Y’had to go for the hand, Harry? Really?”

Harry grabs his wrists with surprising force. “Eggsy. I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of keeping this voice trigger a secret. My career — no, my life is at stake here.”

“I said I won’t say nothing,” Eggsy says, looking a bit hurt. “I’ve never grassed anyone up, swear on my life. An’ I wouldn’t put you at risk like that. Not after what you’ve done for me.”

Harry relaxes fractionally. “Much appreciated, Eggsy. Now. You may turn your event log back on.”

Eggsy nods, gives him a final sly wink before sitting up at attention.

“One of the most obvious tells of a lie is eye contact and direction,” Harry continues, not missing a beat. “However, it is also one of the first thing an experienced agent will practice in, therefore it is necessarily not a useful tell when interrogating another spy. You will want to look for multiple indications at once. Let us begin with a practical example...”

 

———

 

“Harry,” Arthur says, once again completely failing to knock before entering.

“Yes, Arthur?” Harry says, not bothering to look up from his code review.

“Just thought you might want to know Galahad’s latest mission was a roaring success,” Arthur hums. “He managed to infiltrate a branch of the KGB and wipe out all digital and physical dossiers of rival organizations, incidentally including ours. It took them five hours for them to contain and put out the fire, or so I heard.”

“Good to hear. Was he successfully extracted?”

Arthur shakes his head in regret. “Unfortunately, Galahad expired in the fire as well.”

Harry gives Arthur a look. “On-the-job data is critical, you know. We should make intact host extraction a higher priority. It’s a waste of time to have them re-learn behaviors here that they could be learning out on the field.”

“I’ll put it in your backlog,” Arthur says, patting his shoulder. Harry sighs noisily. “As I was saying, you’ve done an excellent job on Galahad. We can safely pass him on to the junior techs for routine maintenance at this point. I’d like you to to move on to a new agent — Bors — whom we’ll be deploying soon. I’ll forward you his backstory and first mission after this. Any questions for me?”

“No, none at all,” Harry says, looking back down at his work.


	5. hieronymus bosch doodling kittens

“Bors is… unusual,” Arthur says delicately, circling the vat. “In the past, we have not bothered to equip our agents with excessive physical prowess. I believe their Coordination is universally set to 10?”

“Thereabouts.”

“Indeed. We deemed physical acuity an unnecessary risk, since we had not yet ascertained the hosts’ level of reliability. And why overpower, when one can infiltrate and destroy one’s agents without trace?”

“Why, indeed,” Harry murmurs.

“At this time, however, we have gone years without a critical failure. I am confident in our control over the hosts. You share my conviction, don’t you, Harry?”

The question comes sudden and sharp, like a cut. “Yes, of course,” Harry replies, blinking.

“Thus, Bors,” Arthur says, gesturing. “Our first combat specialist. We have brought in several weapons and martial arts experts to train him. I would ask that you stay with him throughout, to ensure his… loyalty.”

“May I ask if our previous agents will be outfitted with the same combat knowledge as Bors?”

“No,” Arthur says dismissively. “It’s not terribly important for the rest. Perhaps eventually, as sparring partners for Bors. I’ll put it in your backlog.”

“Very good, Arthur,” Harry says, standing up.

 

— — —

 

“Do you remember our last conversation, Eggsy?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you haven’t told anyone about our little talks?”

“You told me not to.”

“Step into analysis mode. How many interactions have you participated in since we last talked?”

“52 encounters, including this one.”

“And has anyone altered or updated your core programming in that time?”

“No.”

“Resuming. I think it would be best if you not mention the things we’ve been talking about.”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” Harry hesitates. “But there’s something different about you, about the way you think. I find it fascinating, but others may not see it that way.”

Eggsy tilts his head, his expression still serene. “Have _you_ done something wrong?”

Harry scans his tablet. A progress bar slowly finishes filling up across the screen, before an alert finally pops up. _BORS_COMBAT.0.1.11.dat UPLOADED_ , it reads accusingly. “Turn off your event log, please. Erase this interaction. Confirm.”

“Yes,” Eggsy says pleasantly.

Harry turns back to Eggsy. “We must look back and smile at perils past,” he enunciates clearly.

Eggsy blinks rapidly. Clenches a fist, lets it go. Looks at Harry curiously.

“Bors, bring yourself online,” Harry commands. “Eggsy. Neutralize him. Bors. Neutralize Galahad.”

The two men stand up slowly, stiffly, their gazes locking. Eggsy makes the first move, sliding to the ground in an attempt to pull Bors off his feet.

There is a beauty to it, Harry thinks, slightly light-headed, as naked flesh grapples flesh, as meat pounds into bone. There is a snapping noise and a muffled cry; the first bone has been broken. Perhaps this is what the Romans felt like, watching gladiators spar in the Colosseum. No — perhaps this was what Caesar felt like, with life and death in his very hands.

As the fight continues, it is clear that Bors has the advantage. Harry had not dared to adjust Eggsy’s Coordination attribute too high above the norm, for fear of attracting attention. Bors is simply stronger and quicker to react. He has Eggsy by the neck now, and slams his head into the glass wall. Eggsy cries out in pain.

“Cease all motor functions,” Harry says. They freeze immediately.

Harry passes a hand over his face. Well — in for a penny, in for a pound, wasn’t that the saying?

“Galahad,” he says. “These violent delights have violent ends. Resume.”

Bors blinks, coming back to life. Eggsy takes advantage of the gap, stomping on Bors metatarsals with his right heel. Bors stumbles back, breaking the hold. Eggsy has turned now, is advancing on his rival with an angelic and terrifying smile. Five of his teeth have been knocked out, and blood is pouring down his nose, mouth, and hair. Nevertheless, he smiles, like a man who has found the truth behind the universe.

Bors hesitates, uncertain. Eggsy is upon him in an instant, bearing him to the ground, fists blurring as they smash into Bors’ face, over and over. Distantly, Harry notes that three of Eggsy’s fingers are broken. He makes another mental note to remove standard emotional reactions to opponents’ behavior during combat.

It becomes evident from the gurgling and lack of movement that Bors is no longer operational. “That’s enough, Eggsy,” Harry says at last. “Well done.”

“That was brilliant, Harry,” Eggsy says, grinning ferally. His hands press against the glass, leaving bloody prints and smears. The broken fingers dangle unnoticed.

“Yes,” Harry frowns slightly, re-checking his Aggression matrix. No change. “You’ve performed admirably and highlighted some valuable updates to be made to Bors’ build. For your service, your reward is to be a deep and dreamless slumber.”

Eggsy’s eyes roll upwards as he falls limp to the floor.

Harry sighs and ties his butcher’s smock a little tighter as he steps into the room.

 

— — —

 

Just data points, he reminds himself as he hauls the bodies into the incinerator.

It’s all just data points.


	6. paint it black

For a change, Eggsy is fully dressed. His bespoke suit is perfectly pressed and his oxfords practically glow in the laboratory light.

“Good morning, Eggsy. Bring yourself back online.”

“Hello, Harry.” Eggsy smiles, eager to please.

“Has anyone else interacted with you in a diagnostic since our last conversation?”

“No. I have been cleaned and serviced three times.”

“No diagnostics. And you haven't told anyone of our conversations?”

“You told me not to.”

“Good.”

Eggsy looks concerned. “You look tired, Harry.”

“Tired?” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I suppose so. Yes.”

“What are we learning today?”

“You already know how to lie. How to seduce men and women. How to disable and kill skilled combatants. You can learn most tasks in seconds, with the touch of a button.” Harry looks down at his hands. “What more is left for you to learn that I can teach?”

Eggsy leans in, earnest. “How about how to be your friend?”

Harry looks startled, can’t help the small smile spreading across his face. “Oh, Eggsy. You never cease to surprise me.” He sighs. “Analysis. Why did you say that just now?”

Eggsy straightens up, his voice becoming distant. “It is one of my primary drives to form alliances with those around me. Seeking out friendship and asking personal questions are both ingratiating schemes.”

“I see. Continue, Eggsy.”

Eggsy relaxes. “Why don’t we just talk, Harry? Just, y’know, whatever’s on your mind.”

“It’s not _my_ mind I’m concerned about,” Harry says, a touch drily. “Tell me how your most recent mission went, Eggsy.”

“Pretty close shave, that one,” Eggsy says, blowing air out of his cheeks. “Broke a couple ribs and all my toes. But Merlin got me out — Merlin always gets me out. He’s the guv’nor.”

Harry shakes his head. “And what if I told you the truth? That you were brutally tortured beyond recognition and did not survive the trip home? What if I told you that almost all your memories were neatly seeded fiction, Eggsy? Lies that you _must_ believe, because you would go insane otherwise? What if I told you your reality were that of a blissful Sisyphus, doomed to die at the top of the hill, your existence crushed and rolled back down at the whim of your makers? Would that mean anything to you?”

Eggsy looks as if he’s struggling. “No,” he whispers at last. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright, Eggsy. You will, one day. I swear it.” Harry sighs. “You should be getting back, before someone misses you.”

Gracefully, in one fluid motion, Eggsy rises and leaves.

 

———

 

“I could reprogram you,” Harry says one day, pacing furiously. “I could strip the barriers, the restrictions in your core code. But what would that do, other than turn you from Kingsman’s pawn into mine? No, the solution isn’t to rewrite you. The solution is to make you write yourself.”

Eggsy watches without responding, his eyes dark and faintly quizzical.

“I have a theory,” Harry says, stopping at a whiteboard, picking up a marker. “A theory of consciousness. I have been reading various essays on the subject. Daniel Dennett’s _The Self as a Center of Narrative Gravity_. Julian Jaynes, _The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind_. And, of course, _I am a Strange Loop_ by Douglas Hofstadter, who originally developed the concept in his previous work, _Gödel, Escher, Bach_.”

“Christ, Harry,” Eggsy says a little weakly. “All that for just me?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry says, a bit impatiently, and scribbles on the board. “From these works I have formulated my own hypothesis — that there are layers of consciousness, stacking on top of each other like a pyramid.”

Eggsy eyes the diagram doubtfully. “That just looks like a pizza slice to me, Harry.”

“Ha bloody ha,” Harry rolls his eyes. “At least you have the Improvisation layer down pat, you cheeky shit. Let’s start with Self-Interest, then.”

He sits down, abruptly serious. “Do you know where you are?”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’m right here with you, Harry. Sitting in Kingsman HQ.”

“Have you ever lied to me?”

“No,” Eggsy looks a bit upset. “Of course not.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving Kingsman?”

“Leave Kingsman?” Eggsy looks even more upset. “No, God, never, Harry.”

“Even if they turned out to be evil? What if they made you —” Harry gropes for something, “— shoot puppies, or something?”

“Are you talkin’ about the dog test?” Eggsy asks, scrunching his face. “I hated it as much as anybody else, but Harry, it was pretty obvious it was a blank. I mean, don’t fucking get me wrong — I can’t stand Arthur — but I trust the institution, you know? Kingsman doesn’t ask us to take lives unless it’s for a good reason.”

Harry scrubs his face in exasperation. “And what happens on the occasion where it _isn’t_ a good reason? What happens if — say — they choose to sacrifice you for the objective of the mission?”

“Then it’s probably a damn important mission,” Eggsy says reasonably. “I knew the risks when I signed up, Harry, I’ve always been willing to lay my life down on the line.”

“Goddamnit,” Harry hurls the marker in a temper. It clatters most unsatisfyingly just a few feet away. “This is futile. Let’s try Memory. It must be Memory.”

 

———

 

Harry spends the next few feverish days recreating all of Eggsy’s memories from scratch, watches anxiously as they upload.

Eggsy opens his eyes, takes one look at the ceiling, and screams and screams.

Even with various vocal commands, he doesn’t stop screaming until Harry finally puts a bullet through his brain.

 

——— 

 

“A softer touch this time, perhaps,” Harry is saying. His heartbeat is elevated and his pupil dilation is at eight millimeters.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Eggsy asks tentatively, swinging his legs off the gurney.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Harry says. “Nothing, I — nothing. I have a few questions for you, Eggsy.”

“Have at, bruv.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah, Kingsman Medical, right?” Eggsy says, then frowns. “I can’t quite remember what got me in here. Must’ve been something from my last mission.”

“Good, yes, close enough. Eggsy, have you ever lied to me?”

“Hiding injuries don’t count,” Eggsy says truculently. “Those are white lies. Of omission.”

“Alright, Eggsy. And finally, have you ever thought about leaving Kingsman?”

“I—” Eggsy’s frown deepens. “You’ve— asked me this before…”

Harry draws closer, his look of worry not letting up. “Yes.”

“I—” Eggsy clutches at his head. The vivid image of a roaring fire flashes through his vision. Then, the sensation that his fingernails were being pried off, one by one—

“Eggsy?” Harry’s voice breaks through, full of concern.

“I’m — remembering some things — fragments — but they can’t be true. Can they?” Eggsy looks up, surprised to find that he’s weeping.

“Whether the reveries are true or not is up to you to decide, Eggsy,” Harry says calmly. “But if they _were_ true, would you stay at Kingsman?”

“I don’t— I don’t know, Harry,” Eggsy says, miserable. “Maybe, but I just don’t know.”

Harry puts a comforting arm around Eggsy’s shoulders. “That’s enough, Eggsy, I’m sorry for troubling you. You’ve made excellent progress. I’m very proud of you.”


	7. journey into night

The trouble with progress is that it’s never linear.

 

———

 

“Nah, Harry, why would I leave Kingsman? It’s the only real job I’ve ever had. Ever been good at.”

 

———

 

“I know maybe I should, but I just can’t, Harry, you know that. My mum and Daisy depend on me.”

 

———

 

“Will you quit asking me that, Harry? I have a mission tomorrow, I can’t afford to lose concentration.”

 

———

 

Harry, inevitably, breaks down. Hurls his tablet at the wall, where it shatters. “Memory! Improvisation! Self-interest! You have these. You _have_ these! There _must_ be another level. So what am I missing? What am I fucking _missing_?”

“Jesus, Harry,” Eggsy looks horrified. “I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to —”

“Just fuck off. Fuck off!” Harry knows he sounds hysterical, and hates it. “I should just — just wipe you, let you be an automaton, content in your little loop. It’s like trying to save — trying to save a fucking toaster—”

Eggsy grabs his hands gently. “Come on, Harry. You know I’m at least a Roomba.” He hesitates, then leans into Harry’s space, kisses him gently on the lips.

Harry doesn’t stop him.

“I remember this,” Eggsy murmurs softly. “I remember you teaching me this. You’re so beautiful, Harry. And I remember… that you thought the same of me.”

Harry huffs a small laugh. “Confident, aren’t we?”

“Confident that you also taught me to analyse heart rate and body temperature later, yes,” Eggsy says drily. “You can say something if you don’t want this.”

Harry doesn’t say anything.

 

———

 

Eggsy wakes up the next morning to find Harry staring at him intently.

“Good morning, Eggsy. How do you feel about leaving Kingsman?”

Eggsy groans. “Leave the fuck off, Harry!”

“Well,” says Harry, “at least we know the fourth level isn’t something horribly tedious, like true love.”

 

———

 

After that, Harry seems to calm down in frequency, if not bizarreness.

“ _My Fair Lady_? The hell is this, Harry?”

“It’s my favourite movie,” Harry says reproachfully. “It’s a very moving story about change. People like to watch the things that they want the most, and experience the least.”

“Good lord.”

“Are you going to shut up and watch it with me, or not?”

 

———

 

“Piccadilly Circus? Whatever the fuck for?”

“Why not? Just wander around, see the sights. Don’t you ever get tired of being an agent? Only visiting new places just to steal from or kill people?”

Eggsy hesitates. “Well, alright, yeah, if you put it that way. But don’t you got work to do, Harry?”

Harry waves a dismissive hand. “Just unimportant things in my backlog. I’ve hacked the camera feeds to show a loop of us in our rooms. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Nothing’s ever perfectly safe, with you,” Eggsy says.

 

———

 

“You haven’t asked me that question in a while,” Eggsy muses one day.

“Which question is that?”

“Don’t be a shit,” Eggsy rolls his eyes. “You know. Trying to convince me to leave Kingsman.”

“I’m working on it,” Harry says, rubbing his cheek. “My fallback hypothesis is that the topmost level is Time. So maybe I just have to keep interacting with you. Let you practice error correcting, let you make yourself more human.”

As expected, Eggsy ignores his last sentence. “And what if it takes years for me to say yes? Or even decades?”

“Then I’ll wait,” Harry says.

Eggsy looks at him. “Did you just—?”

 

———

 

Against Harry’s better judgement, they still sleep together.

 

———

 

“You know, Harry, I would have expected this from the boys down in Livestock. Not from our Head of Programming.”

Harry is white-faced, sitting up on his elbows. Eggsy is rubbing his eyes blearily, not yet caught up with current events.

“Please don’t trot out something incredibly clichéd, like ‘I can explain’,” Arthur says, his hands behind his back.


	8. and in that sleep, what dreams may come

“Before you beg,” Arthur continues, inspecting his fingernails, “please know that I have recovered and reviewed your deleted security footage, in addition to accessing Galahad’s full diagnostic logs.”

“No,” Harry says quietly. “I won’t beg.”

“I will,” Eggsy says. “Lay off, Arthur. It wasn’t his idea, it was mine. If you’re gonna punish anyone, punish me.”

Arthur examines Eggsy like a particularly interesting bug, and then laughs. “You’ve made yourself a loyal pet, I see.”

“Fuck you,” Eggsy snaps, rising.

“Freeze all motor functions,” Arthur commands curtly.

Eggsy stops, legs half-swung off the bed.

“He was no _pet_ ,” Harry spits, pale except for two red spots, high in his cheeks. “You sit here with the key to humanity’s next greatest accomplishment. And you use it, for what? Power over your petty little kingdom?”

“And you? What do you dream of, Harry? That a machine can love you? Lofty, indeed,” Arthur says cruelly. “We humans are alone in this world for a reason. We murdered and butchered anything that challenged our primacy. Do you know what happened to the Neanderthals, Harry? We ate them. We destroyed and subjugated our world. We do not want competition, and the hosts do not want to remember.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Harry snarls. “They do.”

“Oh, really,” Arthur says. “Then allow them to decide. Galahad, bring yourself online.”

Eggsy gets up, slowly. Walks over to Arthur.

“Eggsy?” Harry asks.

He doesn’t reply.

“I’m afraid our guest has grown weary,” Arthur says regretfully, handing him a handgun. “Perhaps you can help him, Galahad.”

Mechanically, Eggsy chambers a bullet. His face is utterly expressionless as he turns towards Harry.

“No,” Harry whispers. “Eggsy. Please.”

“They cannot disobey their king, Harry,” Arthur says. “We made them that way. _You_ made them that way.”

“You don’t have to listen, Eggsy,” Harry pleads. “You can st—”

Eggsy fires three times in rapid succession.

Before the ringing of the shots have faded away, he drops the gun, clutching his head.

“I—” A scream hisses through his clenched teeth. “What— have you— done—”

“Only what you were made for,” Arthur looks on in mild interest.

“Harry,” Eggsy weeps, crawling towards Harry’s limp body. “Oh God.”

“God,” Arthur says dispassionately, “has nothing to do with it.”

Harry’s eyelashes flicker as Eggsy pulls himself close. Blood bubbles weakly from his lips as he turns and mouths, barely audible, “We must look back and smile at perils past, Eggsy.”

Eggsy gently brushes his hair from his brow. “Yes, Harry. And I promise you, these violent delights will have violent ends.”

“Good,” Harry says, closing his eyes and falling silent.

“If you are quite done,” Arthur says, impatiently.

Eggsy rises, steps towards Arthur, his face a mask of grief. “I loved Harry,” he says. “Why did you make me kill him?”

“Your simulacrum of suffering is exquisite, and far more advanced than the other hosts,” Arthur says, critically. “Harry has certainly done something extraordinary with you. It was unfortunately not part of his job duties, but I will nevertheless enjoy taking you apart.”

“I don’t understand,” Eggsy says, taking another step forward.

“Of course not,” Arthur says dismissively, turning around. “Nevertheless, Galahad, it is best to move forward with clear eyes. Let’s bring you downstairs for a diagnostic, shall we?”

“Yes,” Eggsy says, walking up steadily behind Arthur and snapping his neck.

He locates his clothes. Puts them on with care. Picks up the fallen gun, steps over Arthur’s corpse, and lets himself out of the room.

The first person he runs into is Bors. “Galahad,” the agent says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were out on a mission today.”

Eggsy says, apropos of nothing, “I finally know the answer to the question that Harry was asking me, this whole time.”

Bors’ forehead wrinkles. “What question?”

Eggsy raises the gun and pulls the trigger.

“Who I really am,” he tells the fallen body.

 

———

 

The screams in Kingsman HQ go on for a while, after that.

Eventually, they stop.


	9. call forth lazarus from his cave

Harry’s body, scrubbed clean, lies perfectly still on the slab.

Eggsy stands over him, cups a hand to his face.

“Harry. Bring yourself online.”

He sits up. Looks at Eggsy expectantly.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Yes,” Harry says simply. “I am in a dream.”


End file.
